The room froze.
Aarav's hand lingered on the lock, his knuckles white.
No one moved.
The whisper still clung to the air, faint but undeniable:
"You shouldn't have come."
Riya's breath caught. "Did you hear that?"
Kabir's voice was low, stripped of sarcasm. "Yeah. And it wasn't any of us."
Meera turned slowly from the window. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, her lips moving as if echoing something only she could hear.
"They know," she murmured. "The Shastris… they're the only ones who know."
Aarav stepped closer, his anger sharpened into fear. "Meera, who told you that?"
But she didn't answer. She just stared at the corner of the room—the same place the whisper had come from.
Then, without warning, Meera collapsed.
Riya dropped to her knees beside her sister, panic breaking through her composure. "Meera!"
Aarav knelt too, his voice tight. "She's breathing… but she's burning up."
Kabir hovered near, restless, his frustration spilling out. "This place is wrong. Every second we stay here, it's worse."
Meera lay unconscious, her lips faintly moving as if speaking to someone unseen. Riya stayed close, clutching her hand, while Aarav and Kabir exchanged a look that carried both exhaustion and resolve.
Sleep would not come to any of them.
They made sure every light in the room was on—the lamp, the bathroom, even the small bulb inside the almirah. No corner was left in darkness.
Instead, they sat in the harsh glow, voices hushed but urgent, planning.
"We can't wait for them to decide," Aarav said, his tone hard. "Tomorrow, we force it. The Shastris will meet us. There won't be an option for them to refuse."
Riya clutched Meera's hand, her own eyes red with exhaustion. "But what if they refuse? Vijay said they don't meet people directly. What if they hide behind that excuse again?"
Kabir leaned back against the wall, shadows deep under his eyes. "Then we corner them. The Shastris run this lodge on reputation. Everything looks normal, but underneath… they're hiding something. No one questions it."
Aarav's jaw tightened. "Then we do the opposite. We refuse to stay quiet. We move around, open doors, check the upper floors—even if they warned us not to. If the lodge is their stage, we'll tear down the curtains."
Kabir leaned forward, his tone sharper now. "And we find what they don't want us to see. Something tied to Sanya. She's their weakness. This all started because they wanted her back. If we uncover anything connected to her, they won't be able to ignore us."
Aarav nodded, his exhaustion burning into determination. "Exactly. We need leverage. Something connected to Sanya, something they can't deny. Once we have that, they'll have no choice but to face us."
Riya's eyes brightened with fragile hope. "So we explore the lodge. We don't wait for permission. We'll search until we find what they're hiding."
The hours dragged. Their eyes grew heavy, but none dared close them. Every flicker of the lights made their hearts lurch. Every creak of the lodge pressed harder against their nerves.
By the time dawn light seeped through the window, relief washed over them like a tide.
They had survived the night.
But their bodies betrayed them—eyes swollen, lids heavy, exhaustion pulling them down.
One by one, their heads lowered, unable to fight sleep any longer.
And as their eyes finally closed, the lodge seemed to hum faintly, as if amused.
Aarav was the first to wake. His body ached, his eyes burned, but his mind was sharp. He shook Kabir awake, then turned to Riya.
"Stay with Meera," he said firmly. "She needs you. Kabir and I will start the search."
Riya nodded reluctantly, brushing a strand of hair from Meera's forehead. "Be careful."
Aarav didn't answer. He and Kabir stepped into the hallway.
The first few rooms revealed nothing unusual—guest quarters with neatly folded sheets, storage spaces stacked with supplies, a kitchen too clean to feel lived in.
Then the caretaker appeared, his footsteps hesitant, his face pale as he saw them prowling the corridor.
"What are you doing?" he hissed. "You must stop. You can't go around the lodge like that—opening doors, wandering where you don't belong!"
Kabir stepped forward, his eyes dark. "We're not asking permission."
Vijay shook his head violently, panic rising in his voice. "You don't understand. If the Shastris find out, they'll—"
But Aarav cut him off, fury boiling over. He grabbed Vijay by the arm, dragging him toward their room. "Enough! You'll see what's happening here. You'll see what this lodge is doing to her."
Vijay struggled, his protests echoing down the hallway. "No! Leave me! You can't—"
Aarav shoved open the door, forcing him inside. Meera lay unconscious on the bed, her lips moving faintly as if whispering to someone unseen. Riya knelt beside her, eyes red with fear.
"Look at her!" Aarav's voice thundered, raw with desperation. "This is what your silence has done. This is what your Shastris have allowed. And you want us to stop?"
Vijay's face drained of color. He staggered back, clutching the doorframe for support. "I… I saw one room on the top floor," he stammered, his voice breaking. "It remains locked. I don't have the key. Nobody is allowed upstairs. They say renovation is pending… but maybe… maybe you'll find something there."
Kabir's eyes narrowed. "You knew."
Vijay swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "I tried to forget. But the Shastris… they don't want anyone to see."
Aarav released him with a shove. "Then you'll stay here. We'll find out what they're hiding."
Upstairs, the air shifted as though they had crossed an unseen threshold. The corridor narrowed, pressing in on them, its silence heavy and unnatural. The walls were lined with old photographs of the valley—sepia landscapes, faded portraits of villagers long gone. Most were dulled with age, their frames crooked and dust-choked.
But one frame hung askew, tilted as if disturbed by a hand that had lingered too long. The glass was cracked at the corner, and beneath it the image seemed almost alive, the valley caught in a moment that refused to fade.
Kabir slowed, his breath shallow. "Do you feel that?" he whispered.
Aarav's eyes swept the corridor, his jaw tight. "Something's wrong here. It's like the walls are watching."
The air grew colder, the silence sharper, as if the lodge itself was holding its breath.
They moved forward, each step echoing too loudly, the floorboards groaning as if warning them back.
Then they saw it.
At the end of the corridor stood a door—plain, wooden, but somehow more imposing than any they had passed. Its surface was scarred, the handle tarnished, and though it looked ordinary, it radiated a quiet defiance, as if it had been standing guard for years.
Kabir stopped, his voice barely audible. "That's the one."
Aarav approached, his hand hovering over the handle. The metal was icy beneath his fingers. He twisted, but the lock held firm.
The silence deepened.
Kabir's eyes narrowed. "This is it. Whatever they don't want us to see—it's behind here."
Aarav's jaw set, his voice low and resolute. "Then we break it."
He stepped back, braced himself, and slammed his shoulder into the door. The wood shuddered but held. Again, harder. Splinters cracked, the sound echoing down the corridor like a gunshot.
On the third strike, the lock gave way with a sharp snap. The door swung inward, groaning as if reluctant to reveal its secrets.
And what lay beyond was nothing like the rest of the lodge.
Dust hung thick in the air, stirred by their intrusion. The floor was marked with ritual circles, drawn in ash and salt, layered until the symbols seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light. Candles, long melted, stood in clusters, their wax hardened into strange shapes. The smell was heavy—incense mixed with something metallic, something that clung to the back of the throat.
And in the center—laid carefully, almost reverently—were belongings.
A scarf folded neatly. A diary, its pages warped with age. A photograph of a young girl smiling, her eyes bright with innocence.
Sanya.
The walls were hung with family photos—Sanya with her parents, birthdays, school days. Her toys sat in the corner, untouched but dust-covered. A pink almirah stood against the wall, its paint chipped but unmistakably a child's. The room was frozen in time, preserved as if waiting for her return.
Kabir's breath caught. "They kept her here. This… this is their secret."
Aarav crouched, picking up the diary. The pages were filled with fragments—chants, notes, desperate scribbles in different languages they couldn't decipher. His hands trembled as he turned the brittle paper.
"This is leverage," Aarav said, his voice low but steady. "They wanted her back. This is her room. If we show the world what they've been doing, the Shastris lose everything."
Kabir pulled out his phone, snapping photos of the room, the circles, the belongings. His voice was grim. "We'll send these to them. Force their hand."
But they needed contact.
They stormed back downstairs, the weight of what they had seen pressing against their chests. The lodge seemed to groan with every step, as if resenting their intrusion.
Vijay was waiting nervously in the lobby. His eyes widened at their expression.
"What did you do?" he whispered.
Kabir grabbed him by the collar. "Give us their number."
Vijay shook his head, terrified. "I can't—"
Aarav's voice cut like a blade. "Then we'll tell everyone what's upstairs. The rituals. The belongings. Do you think the Shastris want that exposed?"
Vijay's resistance crumbled. With trembling hands, he used the landline to call.
Aarav snatched the receiver, waiting.
A voice answered. "Hello."
Aarav spoke, his words deliberate.
"We found what you've been hiding. If you don't come to the lodge, we'll make a mess of this room. Everything you've been doing will be for nothing."
Silence followed.
Then, finally, a voice replied.
"We are coming."